deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Tear's Final Bravado
The sky floats to the space beyond me
thrust by the pillar of clouds.
The others play with the clouds coming to meet the sun we all love
while I fall reaching a hand for what I never could have known.
They can fly!
Those celestial hybrids that are so much more representative of human evolution.
I fall like a teardrop that was torn from the dreamy horizon
upon the horizon's discovery that sometimes dreams don't come true
and that she, the horizon, would never be touched or held
or know love or come to know those that know it.
I was born from that horizon called Ideal.
The idealist desire is a place in the sky
with Sun.
We all want her so much.
She is the thing that motivates us, when all other interactions seem to amount dust to us,
to still come outside into society.
Falling, drifting. Taken by the wind, I twirl.
Sun looks at me and stares, and I recollect myself in the air
and apply my tiny wings to save myself for a moment
because I refuse to agonize while enraptured by her light.
She shines through me, a teardrop, her long lost fantasy.
Then, for a second she looks away.
The suitors above the clouds call out to her,
and when she turns back around I've already hidden myself below a cloud
where I can fall to my emotional degeneration without empathy.
Mother Horizon, cry a tear for me that will give me a 25 milligrams to anchor.
Horizon, reaccept me.
Promise me that there is an ocean down there for those that can't reach the Sun and find true love in the air.
The sun catches glimpse of me.
She looks for me!
And she is saddened by my sadness.
I don't have the right wings for flying. I can't reach the clouds for you and console your light by sitting on the pillars.
The sky is far above. What is below is my only hope.
One last glance for the sake of memory.
Just smile.
Face towards the ground that's coming fast,
diving into the perpetual solitude of material-orientation,
and I was the son of the Horizon.
I was a person with the highest dreams.
I pictured myself levitating right next to the sun,
not needing to rest at all on those pillars.
But I was cursed with little wings.
The earth bites my skin
because I never knew the embrace of Sun.
"With a sigh little teardrop,"
other idealists who could soar much further and be loved would proclaim,
"you'll water the earth."
Just business and economics
and the whimper of a heart.
thrust by the pillar of clouds.
The others play with the clouds coming to meet the sun we all love
while I fall reaching a hand for what I never could have known.
They can fly!
Those celestial hybrids that are so much more representative of human evolution.
I fall like a teardrop that was torn from the dreamy horizon
upon the horizon's discovery that sometimes dreams don't come true
and that she, the horizon, would never be touched or held
or know love or come to know those that know it.
I was born from that horizon called Ideal.
The idealist desire is a place in the sky
with Sun.
We all want her so much.
She is the thing that motivates us, when all other interactions seem to amount dust to us,
to still come outside into society.
Falling, drifting. Taken by the wind, I twirl.
Sun looks at me and stares, and I recollect myself in the air
and apply my tiny wings to save myself for a moment
because I refuse to agonize while enraptured by her light.
She shines through me, a teardrop, her long lost fantasy.
Then, for a second she looks away.
The suitors above the clouds call out to her,
and when she turns back around I've already hidden myself below a cloud
where I can fall to my emotional degeneration without empathy.
Mother Horizon, cry a tear for me that will give me a 25 milligrams to anchor.
Horizon, reaccept me.
Promise me that there is an ocean down there for those that can't reach the Sun and find true love in the air.
The sun catches glimpse of me.
She looks for me!
And she is saddened by my sadness.
I don't have the right wings for flying. I can't reach the clouds for you and console your light by sitting on the pillars.
The sky is far above. What is below is my only hope.
One last glance for the sake of memory.
Just smile.
Face towards the ground that's coming fast,
diving into the perpetual solitude of material-orientation,
and I was the son of the Horizon.
I was a person with the highest dreams.
I pictured myself levitating right next to the sun,
not needing to rest at all on those pillars.
But I was cursed with little wings.
The earth bites my skin
because I never knew the embrace of Sun.
"With a sigh little teardrop,"
other idealists who could soar much further and be loved would proclaim,
"you'll water the earth."
Just business and economics
and the whimper of a heart.
Published 15th Jan 2015
| Edited 23rd Jan 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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18th Jan 2015 5:10pm
Such Beautiful Imagery..enjoyed!!
fav lines:
"while I fall reaching a hand for what I never could have known.
They can fly!
Those celestial hybrids that are so much more representative of human evolution.
I fall like a teardrop that was torn from the dreamy horizon
upon the horizon's discovery that sometimes dreams don't come true "
and this:
"Promise me that there is an ocean down there for those that can't reach the Sun and find true love in the air."
fav lines:
"while I fall reaching a hand for what I never could have known.
They can fly!
Those celestial hybrids that are so much more representative of human evolution.
I fall like a teardrop that was torn from the dreamy horizon
upon the horizon's discovery that sometimes dreams don't come true "
and this:
"Promise me that there is an ocean down there for those that can't reach the Sun and find true love in the air."
18th Jan 2015 7:41pm
20th Jan 2015 5:44pm
The "tiny wings" and the mention of others being more "representative of human evolution" was my way of expressing the social dysfunction (autistic spectrum disorder) that I have and, where later on I mention how I had imagined being close to the sun and better to the sun than any one else, I was discussing how my plan and wishes disconnect with my actions. When I spoke of how all other relationships can be like "dust to us", I was referring to how many men with social ineptness can ignore the need to socialize around other guys or around their parents or siblings, but how the desire to be with a woman is so basic that it is often hard to avoid trying to socialize with her. Even when separating ourselves from the need to deepen any other interaction, we find ourselves still falling for a woman and wanting to be with her though it is very likely that we can't because of social ineptness.
10th Jun 2015 7:49am
10th Jun 2015 8:23am
10th Jun 2015 8:23am
